The Brass Ring
by jasmine105
Summary: This short story - one chapter - is a bridge from the ending of "The Business of Saving Souls" to my next story (to be titled "A Family Affair"). It concerns Horatio, Kyle, ghosts from the past, and Lauren Chambers.


**The Brass Ring**

Horatio Caine smiled with appreciation as he inhaled the fresh, pine tree-scented air and comforting perfume of well-groomed horses. It was a beautiful day for riding - the sort of Indian summer's day that always took him back to his early youth in New York. Closing his eyes, he fleetingly caught the familiar aroma of the changing season in his nostrils - tart apples, roasting chestnuts, warm cinnamon and the homey bouquet of well-seasoned wood burning in distant fireplaces. Odd ... he'd never noticed these autumn scents in Miami before. Still, he was enjoying them as well as the crisp coolness underpinning the mild heat of the early afternoon.

Up ahead, he watched his son, Kyle, tending to his chocolate-colored stallion, checking its stirrups before quickly mounting it. He tossed a happy smile in his father's direction. "Hey, Dad - what's taking you so long? Let's get to it."

Horatio grinned happily. He was about to mount his own horse, a snow white steed, and follow Kyle along the pretty trail that meandered peacefully by the tree-clad stream, but instead he paused briefly. His too-often troubled soul rejoiced in the day's tranquility, and he happily surveyed the jeweled tones of the early autumn landscape surrounding him. Bright blue eyes snapped joyfully at the golden hued sunlight bouncing off the gold, orange and red leaves of the trees along the trail. Suddenly, he experienced a moment of disorientation ... it had been some time since he had experienced autumn in this way ... gold, red and orange leaves crunching beneath his feet ... how _odd_. He tilted his head quizzically at the beauty around him ... what had happened to the lush, green, tropical foliage of Miami? This was reminiscent of ... New York.

"Come on, Dad! Let's go! I feel great! What a gorgeous day!" Kyle was laughing exuberantly, impatient to be off.

Horatio put disquieting thoughts aside; it was enough to see his son so happy and looking so fit.

_So fit? Why wouldn't he be fit?_ Horatio wondered. Once more unsettled, he paused until he heard Kyle call to him again, "Dad! Hurry up!"

Horatio pushed back his unease and joined Kyle in laughter. It was an excellent day! What was there to worry about? Time to throw caution to the wind and just enjoy the moment!

He started to mount his horse but again he stopped when he heard a soft voice gently call his name. There it was ... that peculiar feeling of disorientation... Confused, he wondered whether he should answer the gentle voice or give in to his son's bidding and start down the harvest-colored horse path. He could see Kyle was eager to be off and had half turned his mount toward the beckoning trail.

"Horatio! Horatio?"

Finally, he turned his head and saw her standing by the stables, her beautiful face wearing an expression of worry. She looked so lovely standing there, her slim gloved hand beckoning to him. Her wavy, pale blond hair was severely pulled back into a long, thick pony tail, and a black velvet riding hat was perched upon her head. His eyes drank in the sight of her in tan riding breeches that snugly fit the waist and slender hips that never failed to entice him. He threw a backward look at Kyle, but saw his son was busily scanning the skies. He briefly looked at Horatio and frowned with concern. "Don't be too long, Dad ... black skies ahead ... I think the weather is about to turn bad."

Horatio looked up at the skies, but everything appeared fine to him. What is Kyle talking about? There isn't a cloud in the sky! He looked toward Lauren, still standing by stables, and headed in her direction. "I won't be long, Son." Far off, in the distance, he heard the soft sound of music.

"Horatio," said Lauren, as he approached, "where are you going? Why didn't you wait for me? I'm ready, honey. Look, I'm dressed and my horse is standing right next to yours."

Horatio glanced at his horse, and saw that standing next to his was a pale gray steed with a dark gray saddle. He turned his attention back to Lauren.

"Sweetheart, why are you here? Kyle asked me to ride with him today ... we need to do this alone ... I need to do it alone."

Her compassionate gray eyes peered deeply into his. "Why do you need to do this alone, honey? I'm dressed and ready to go. My horse is ready, and standing next to yours. Let's do this together. Let me ride this trail with you."

He shook his head apologetically. "Not this time, Lauren. Not yet." He looked toward his son, but Kyle was already cantering down the trail. Horatio began to feel agitated. "I have to go now, Lauren. Please understand - I have to go. Now!"

Not staying to catch her expression, Horatio hurried to his mount, and noticed that Lauren's was no longer there. He looked over toward the stables; she was gone. _Good,_ he thought. _There is nothing for her here but sadness._

He quickly mounted the horse and spurred it toward his son's retreating figure.

"Kyle! Son! ... I'm coming. Wait for me," he called. Kyle turned his head backward, looking hurriedly at his father.

"Dad, quickly! Quickly! The weather is turning bad ... very bad!" With that, Kyle dug his heels into the sides of his horse and took off, leaving Horatio behind. Horatio promptly dug his own heels into his horse, but his animal refused to move faster than a slow trot ... and, helplessly, he watched his son's retreating figure become smaller and smaller...

Again, Horatio heard the far-off, muted sound of music. What was that tune? He'd heard that tune before ... but where? And why didn't Kyle slow his horse?

"You know, big brother, sometimes you are very slow to grasp a situation," said Raymond Caine casually, riding alongside Horatio on his majestic chestnut-colored horse.

Horatio turned toward his brother and frowned. "What are you talking about? I don't have time to waste, Ray; Kyle is disappearing around that bend."

Ray laughed. "He's not that far ahead, big brother. You're just behind. But not too far. You can still catch up. You just need to catch the ring."

The music was becoming louder and it started to give Horatio a dull headache. _What was that damned tune? And why was it so loud?_

Irritated, Horatio said, "What ring? What are you talking about?"

"That ring," said Ray, pointing upward.

Horatio looked up, and suddenly, he saw a man dressed in a soldier's uniform standing in the center of a stationery platform. He was holding a brass ring out to the horsemen as they went ...

round ...

and round ...

and round.

Suddenly, Horatio recognized the music; it was the music of a calliope and, looking around, he saw that he was sitting on a gaily painted wooden horse mounted to a revolving platform. He looked over and saw his brother grinning at him, now astride a thickly varnished chestnut horse that moved up and down a golden pole in time to the repetitious melody of the calliope.

"Ray, where's Kyle? Where is Kyle?" Frantic, Horatio searched the various horsemen on the circular platform, his head aching from the loud, circus-like music coming from the steam organ. He was confused ... he looked across the platform, and saw a soldier sitting on a painted grinning camel; the young man was missing an arm and staring, unseeing, straight ahead.

Farther ahead, another soldier - this one sitting astride a dung-colored, gloomy-faced llama - wore a bloody bandage wrapped about his forehead; he, too, stared straight ahead, as if unaware he was a part of a mad carousel.

Horatio looked again at Ray, who was studying him with something like pity on his face. "You still don't understand, do you, brother?"

Mutely, Horatio shook his head 'no,' and gripped the pole tightly as his horse ascended and descended in time with the demonic music.

"This is the carousel of life, Horatio," his brother said patiently. "We go round and round and round ... and very few of us have the courage or willpower to get off. It begins with our birth and ends with our death, this eternal ride to ... nowhere. Nothing ever changes ... round and round.

"Look over there," said Ray, directing Horatio's attention to the two shiny lions behind him, sad expressions painted on their wooden faces, glistening tears on their muzzles. Horatio raised his eyes from the lions' mournful faces and was chilled at the sight of his parents riding the lions in tandem. His mother never diverted her gaze from her hands which were anxiously grasping the golden pole that propelled her lion up and down ... but his father suddenly looked up, his own bright blue eyes meeting those of his horrified son. "Hello, boy," said his father grimly, two small bullet holes visible in his chest.

Quickly, Horatio turned his gaze back to the front of the carousel. Without looking at him, he asked his brother, "Why are you doing this? Where's Kyle?"

Raymond sighed, his face weary and sad. "There he is, brother." Horatio looked across the carousel platform and saw Kyle on the other side, riding with a small group of soldiers on what appeared to be a brightly painted, wooden army truck. Horatio cried out, "Kyle! Kyle! Son, I'm over here!"

But Kyle didn't seem to hear his father. Like the other soldiers, he looked straight ahead, unseeing. Tears came unbidden to Horatio's eyes, blurring his vision momentarily and he had to look away; when he looked back, he saw that Kyle was no longer sitting in a truck, but in a wheelchair ... there was an empty space beneath his left thigh ... a space where his lower leg had once been.

Before Horatio could cry out to him, Raymond nudged him. "There's Yelina ahead." Horatio looked beyond the carousel and saw the lovely Colombian woman standing at the front of the line of would-be riders, waiting to take her turn on the carousel. "Poor Yelina," continued Raymond, regretfully. "I was so ... self-centered. I loved her; I really did. Still do, I guess. Beautiful, capable woman ... nuts about me." He sighed. "But she couldn't understand why I did the things I did. Hell, neither could I. You and me, Horatio ... the crazy Caine brothers."

He and Horatio risked a backward glance; their father was staring reproachfully at them, the wounds turning dark red upon his chest. "How could I truly let her inside, Horatio? Or my son? What kind of legacy do we have to offer to loved ones? A dark one ... too much darkness. Like the sky."

Horatio looked up. The beautiful golden day had turned black and cold, and a damp, chilling wind began to blow. Horatio sniffed; all the wonderful scents of an Indian summer's day in New York had disappeared. Instead, he smelled the rotting odor of dank earth as if something beneath it had corrupted. Horatio began to cry. _Not his son! Not his son!_

"We boys of Daniel Caine ... such a problem with commitment we have," mused Raymond, waving sadly to Yelina as she watched his brightly painted horse retreat from her line of sight. Horatio suddenly saw Lauren, standing behind Yelina, her face perplexed and sad. "Yes, Lauren's here, too, brother. Your own little problem with intimacy."

"I'm not you, Ray," said Horatio angrily, watching Lauren fade from view as the carousel continued to revolve. "I haven't given up on Lauren."

Raymond laughed. "What you mean is that she hasn't given up on you. Yet. But there's still hope, you know. It's too late for me; but there's hope for you."

"What do you mean?" Horatio asked, his mind bewildered and grief-stricken.

Raymond's voice took on the harsh sound of a carnival barker as he hopped off the painted steed and yelled into a blood-red megaphone. "Last call! Last call, ladies and gents! Pays yer money, an' catch a ride on the carousel to nowhere. Round and round and round she goes! Never stops, don'tcha know! Here's yer chance, folks. Last call! Last call!"

The harsh tone receded, and Raymond allowed the megaphone to fall from his hands to the wooden floor of the revolving platform. He looked at Horatio with an expression that hinted at carefully controlled desperation. "Quick, Horatio! Grab the brass ring, brother - there it is! Reach for it!"

Horatio suddenly saw the gleaming brass ring as the carousel approached the solider who was again holding it out toward those courageous enough to make a grab for it. Tentatively, Horatio reached out - and missed it.

"You have to try harder than that!" exclaimed his brother, angrily. "Don't you want to get off this merry-go-round? Aren't you sick of it? You can do it! Don't be like them ... like mom ... like dad. For God's sake, don't be like me! Reach for it, Horatio! Try to stop the carousel! Here it comes again," he cried, as the their horses turned yet again toward the soldier.

This time, Horatio saw that the soldier wore a familiar face. It was Kyle. He stood there, supported by crutches, one hand extended beseechingly toward his father ... a brass ring hanging from it. His tear-streaked face looked at his father with haunted, needy eyes. "Grab for it, Dad! Please grab it. Please, Dad!"

Horatio, held one hand tightly to the golden pole that speared the middle of his painted steed, his body ascending and descending in beat with the hideous circus music. He leaned forward as far as he could without losing his balance and, with his free hand, desperately reached out toward his son and toward the brass ring in his hand. He heard his brother encouraging him; he glimpsed the hopeful face of Lauren as he rode past, her eyes daring him to reach for the ring. He almost had it within his grasp!

"Dad! Dad!" he heard his son's desperate entreaties, and decisively Horatio grabbed the ring.

"I've got it, Kyle," he cried, "I've got it!"

"Dad, oh Dad, help me, I can't bear it. Please ... the pain!"

With a start, Horatio instantly awakened, his heart beating rapidly. His son, lying on the bed in front of him, was moaning in the half-darkness of a room with shades drawn tight against the late afternoon sun.

"Dad, please, I need something... "

Quickly, Horatio pressed a button on the device hanging near Kyle's hospital bed, and seconds later, a nurse entered the room.

She looked at the young man moving his head back and forth restlessly on his pillow while his hands plucked vainly at his blankets. Calmly, she checked his vitals.

Horatio looked at the woman, "Is it time for his medication? Please ... he woke up crying."

The woman looked sympathetically at Horatio and then at the young man. "Kyle," she said, "is it the leg?"

"Oh yes, yes! Please, it hurts horribly. Can't you give me something?" he asked, hollow-eyed, his face pale with pain.

Horatio's own face began to crumble, but with will he held back his emotions. The leg that was giving Kyle so much pain was, in fact, no longer there ...

The nurse ran a cool hand across the young man's forehead and began to speak soothingly to him. "We'll get you some medicine, Kyle. It's okay, soldier. Everything is okay."

Grimly, Horatio wondered, _Was it? Was it really?_

The End


End file.
